Fundamentally Loathsome
by Rayniekinnz
Summary: 'Roger runs into an acquaintance in Diagon Alley.' Preslash. Drabble-y Christmas fic for HoodedSpellcaster.


**Fundamentally Loathsome **

"Out of stock?" Roger echoed flatly. "But I ordered it! As in, paid in advance and expected to pick it up today! You _can't_ be out of stock!"

The shop-assistant gave him an irritated glance. "Obviously a mistake was made somewhere. Look, boy, it's three days until Christmas and we're very busy. I can give you your money back – _if_ you can show me proof of payment. Otherwise you'll just have to wait until the new shipment comes in!"

Roger gritted his teeth and spat some kind of excuse [he didn't care which] before spinning on his heel and leaving the store in a flurry of robes. He would just have to get his sister something else with the little money he had brought with him on his trip. He had enough for something acceptable – a book or a hat, perhaps.

It was just his luck the Alley would suddenly fill up with last-minute shoppers, forcing him to scramble for safety – which translated to him walking dead-on into another person.

A muffled thump sounded and Roger wheezed, the breath momentarily knocked out of him. Never-mind a person, it had to be a bloody _brick-wall_!

He stumbled back, finding his balance and looking up hurriedly – and up…and up. His eyes widened in recognition, body stiffening and humming with fright as his heart picked up. This really wasn't his lucky day.

Warrington, he knew the other boy [pillar] was called. Cassius Warrington. He was a Seventh Year like Roger, also a Chaser, though he played for Slytherin instead. Absently, up close and able to see him properly without having to worry about being propelled off his broom, Roger thought Warrington really wasn't Chaser-material. He certainly looked the part, all long limbs and towering stature, but he was much too solid. It was no wonder his broom didn't plummet to the ground like a block of cement through water.

He quickly scolded himself for letting his Ravenclaw curiosity take over, stepping back and promptly moving to the side when he nearly walked into another person – luckily an unknown pedestrian and not one of Warrington's beefy, troll-brained acquaintances. He shivered, thinking about the possibility of being trapped by the stupid bullies. He was quick and smart, sure, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could beat them with that alone.

_You're getting distracted again!_ He thought furiously. He felt a bit like he was with Fleur, his mind wandering and unable to focus. He wasn't so far away that he didn't notice the large hand aiming for his shoulder, however.

He ducked away, planning to turn on his heel and make a run for it – dignity be damned! – but that hand clamped down on his shoulder and yanked him out of the way just as a large dog flew across the Alley, barking madly.

He felt a bit like a rag-doll in the Slytherin's grasp, hair flopping in his eyes and bones rattling. His neck hurt and pain blossomed behind his eyes. His knees bobbled a bit as he was righted and he suddenly felt very young and small, his head not even reaching Warrington's collar-bone.

"Do you eat?" Warrington asked – or, Roger assumed it was him as his chest vibrated with the sound and his lips moved to form the words, but there was so much background noise he couldn't really be sure.

Roger blinked and found himself staring at a stain on the lapel of his casual robes, a brown sort of colour, the material sticking out from under his haphazardly-buttoned coat. His voice refused to unstick from his throat, nose curiously cold as the wind picked up.

Warrington seemed not to care that he didn't respond, merely – _finally_ – let go of his body altogether, patting his shoulder roughly. He said something else, but Roger didn't hear a thing. Warrington left.

Roger got his feet moving a moment later, walking down the Alley road in a daze. He had almost forgotten his reason for being there at all. Right…a gift for his sister.

He suddenly didn't feel like shopping anymore, just wanting to go home and warm himself by the fire.

**Finis**.

* * *

For my dearest Hoddie – Merry Christmas and my best wishes for the New Year!

I'm sorry it's so short and…er, well. But you said drabble! TT-TT Anyway, hope it was enjoyable in some form :')

Side note: Title ["Fundamentally Loathsome"] is a Marilyn Manson song. Has no real significance to the story.


End file.
